A Quest for Ratings
by Chomby
Summary: Marik is in trouble, his totally amazing fanfiction has failed to attract any attention from the public and currently has no reviews. To remedy this he decides to send his faithful deputy, Bakura, on a quest to obtain some. A short one shot mostly revolving around yami Bakura.


**Hooray for late night writing and all the strange things that come pouring out of your mind at 2 o'clock in the morning! This is just a fan fiction, I will receive nothing for this other than the joy of sharing my mental splurges with the world, all credit and thanks goes to the respective owners for creating such wonderful characters that sleep deprived maniacs can toy with. **

* * *

**A Quest for Ratings**

"ARGH FRIGGIN' HELL!"

"What is it _this_ time Marik?" Bakura asked wearily from the kitchen as the Egyptian raged at the monitor of his bright purple computer, his cheeks flushing dark red with anger. Even a few veins were pulsating dangerously on his forehead.

"No-one's bothered to review my fanfic!" Marik shouted, jabbing the offending part of his screen. "and it's been up for ages."

Sighing, Bakura removed the pink hello kitty apron he had been wearing while washing up, hung it neatly on it's hook by the sink and made his way into the living room. The apron had been a birthday present from Marik, who had found it hilarious at the time. Bakura hadn't, yet, for some reason, he'd kept the vile thing, probably because he knew Marik would whinge unbearably if he did get rid of it.

"Wait, is this that bloody Harry Potter story you keep going on about, the one where Hagrid is miraculously turned into a high school cheerleader then spends the entire story angsting over a guy that looks exactly like you but is supposed to be the human form of Hedwig?" Bakura asked, sitting down heavily on the sofa next to Marik's chair, picking up a half empty mug of tea from the coffee table. "Because if it is, I have absolutely no idea why it's being ignored," he finished sarcastically.

Marik shot his friend an annoyed glance. "Oh be quiet fluffy," he retorted and continued to sulk in a way that really got under Bakura's skin. To start off with he would tap his feet and continuously hum a singular not, then, as if that wasn't irritating enough, he would get up and begin to stomp around the house, kicking out at various items that happened to get in his way or catch his attention, most of which belonged to Bakura. Finally, and this was the part that Bakura most objected to, Marik would eventually make his destructive way to their bed room where he would then proceed to rearrange Bakura's alphabetically organized book collection so that no vestige of order remained.

A slight scraping noise alerted Bakura to the fact that Marik had left the lounge. "OK, fine, I'll help you get more reviews, just leave my bloody books alone!" Bakura yelled, chasing after his partner in crime.

* * *

Several hours of diabolical plotting later and Bakura was seriously beginning to wonder why he put up with Marik's many ludicrous ideas. Currently he was wrapped head to foot in brightly flashing fairy lights tied to a purple spandex suit and carrying an enormous, luminescent yellow sign which displayed the name of Marik's masterpiece, the web address needed to locate it and Bakura's mobile number in case there were any technical issues or people wanting to complain loudly about something. Because, naturally, Marik was far too busy and important to deal with petty issues like that. Next to the sign lay a much smaller box of leaflets, for the considerable number of people too lazy to glance upwards for a few seconds. Emblazoned on the cover of each pamphlet was a smudged, crayon interpretation of Marik's likeness. Sometimes Bakura found himself worrying that if Marik's head inflated any further he might just need to strap weights to his legs to prevent himself from exiting the troposphere in a very vertical fashion.

Since it seemed that no one was going to actively pay any attention to him, as he lounged against the door of his house, Bakura decided it was time for him to practice his skill as a door to door salesman. Gathering up the box of leaflets, he left Marik a rather pointed letter, hastily taped to the window, and shoved the repulsive sign through the lovingly manicured lawn of his next door neighbours front garden before making his flashing way out of the cul de sac in search of people he deemed worthy of reading Marik's drivel.

* * *

"W-W-What are you d-doing here?" An alarmed teenager squeaked at the sight of the glowing monstrosity standing on his door step.

Bakura smirked evilly, "Now now Ryou, is that really the way to greet your yami? And after everything we've been through together, really Ryou, I feel hurt."

"Y-you said you'd leave me alone once you got your own body."

"And I have up until now, I just need you to perform one last simple task for me," Bakura said smoothly, laying on the charm as thickly as possible. "Really, it's so simple that you could hardly even call it a task at all."

Ryou was still unimpressed. "If it's so easy w-why don't you do it then?" he said, causing Bakura to scowl.

Bakura grabbed a handful of leaflets and shoved them into Ryou's unresisting hands. "Just do it hikari, if not for my sake then for yours. I will know if you haven't and remember, I know where you live."

Laughing at the shocked look on Ryou's face, Bakura ran off to find more victims.

* * *

After some time, and numerable questioning looks from passers by, Bakura reached his destination. His LED outfit was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and he vowed to burn it the second he reached home, preferably when Marik was watching since he had designed the wretched thing. It's sole purpose was to attract as much attention as possible simply by existing and this it did, unimaginably well, however, for a prolonged period of time, the purple skin tight suit was hot and surprisingly itchy; oh how Bakura longed for a cool, refreshing shower.

It was in this bad mood that Bakura hammered on the door of his favourite yugioh protagonist.

"Just coming," called a cheerful voice from within.

The front door burst open to reveal a tiny boy dressed in, what can only be described as, adult clothing and spiky, tricoloured hair. His face noticeably paled when he realised who was standing on his door step.

"Hello Yuugi, long time no see," Bakura said, letting a menacing smile slowly spread over his face and stepping towards his prey, making Yuugi yelp in fear and fall over backwards.

"Aibou, are you OK?" An alarmed voice called from somewhere in the game shop. There was a thudding noise and a man, almost identical to Yuugi appeared; the only difference being that the newcomer was a tiny bit taller and had a few more golden bangs in his hair.

"And the mighty Pharaoh too, my, my this really is a reunion," Bakura said mockingly.

Atem raised an eyebrow in response. "What do you want Bakura, and why in Ra's name are you dressed so ludicrously?" He said, stepping protectively in front of his tiny counterpart.

"I was just in the neighbourhood and felt like dropping in for a friendly chat with a few old acquaintances. Look I even brought you a present." Bakura said, handing over a fist full of leaflets.

"And, as for the costume, let's just say that it is the unlucky product of Marik's somewhat deranged imagination."

Atem sighed. "Bakura what are you really doing here?"

"Nothing, I'll just be off now, oh and be sure to follow the instructions in those pamphlets or I may have to come back and next time I won't be so friendly."

As the spiky haired watched their former nemesis leave Yuugi gulped and tried hard not to look nervous, Atem, on the other hand, continued to appear unimpressed, almost bored, though this rapidly changed to a cry of outrage when Bakura lashed out, sending their dustbin flying with a kick so that rubbish was widely scattered over the game shop's driveway.

Bakura fled, cackling, down the road towards his final, and most challenging, destination.

* * *

It took approximately ten minutes for the albino man to reach his target. Several of the LEDs had broken and one or two of the wires connecting them had unattached themselves from his suit and were trailing along the ground behind him. Feeling and looking like a mess he approached the stupendously extravagant building before him. Multitudes of security cameras swivelled on their axis to face the stranger nearing the large iron gates marking the entrance to the Kaiba estate. Bakura cheerfully gave them the finger before carefully edging his way along the hedge barrier until he came across the small and, thankfully, unnoticed hole he and Marik had cut so that they could gain access to Kaiba household without the owner's permission. Many of their nefarious schemes revolved around it, including the time Marik and Bakura had had slightly too much to drink one evening and decided it would be a fantastic idea to strap fireworks to Kaiba's precious blue eyes white dragon statues in an attempt to see if the heavy lawn ornaments would fly if they strapped enough explosives to them. Needless to say, they hadn't and, instead, the 3 tonne monuments had been blasted apart, showering the nearby area in chunks of model dragon. Much to Marik and Baukra's drunken amusement, the stone head of the largest dragon had been forcibly propelled through the bedroom window of Kaiba's younger brother, Mokuba, who, convinced he was about to become the victim of yet another kidnapping attempt, ran shrieking into the garden, brandishing a baseball bat, and fell head first into the ornamental duck pond.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Kaiba had greatly enhanced his security since then as guard dogs now roamed the perimeters and highly technical alarm systems had been put into place, most noticeably around Kaiba's precious blue eyes which had been skilfully repaired so that the damage they had sustained was barely noticeable. Bakura knew that if he were to get his message across he would have to use all his past knowledge as an expert thief.

As quickly as was feasibly possible in the ridiculous spandex suit, Bakura sprinted to the mansion's outer wall, taking care to avoid the cleverly concealed bear traps littering the lawn. Kaiba really wasn't taking any chances. Pressing his back firmly into the wall he sidled along to the nearest window and grinned when he realised it had been carelessly left open so that anybody could just let themselves in. Noiselessly he slid the window up and slithered inside.

_Step one complete_ Bakura thought to himself as he noiselessly lowered himself onto the rich, velvety carpet of what looked like a living room. An enormous television was suspended on the far wall with an expensive looking sofa positioned directly in front. A small boy with a long mane of tangled black hair bounced excitedly up and down on in it, enthralled by the manly, testosterone filled game of manliness he was playing; shouting with excitement when his disproportionately muscular American soldier mowed down large number helpless Russian civilians. Bakura froze by the window ledge, but relaxed when he realised that the child's attention was too firmly fixed on the screen to notice his uninvited guest.

Taking great care not to be spotted, either by servant or security device, Bakura slowly crept upstairs to the master bedroom. Pausing briefly to confirm that it was empty, he opened the door, slunk into Kaiba's private domain, and was left speechless by the sheer amount of blue eyes white dragon themed objects. Even the bed was shaped to look like the dragon's gaping jaws. Bakura had always known that Kaiba was strangely obsessed with the blue eyes but he had never realised the full extent of it, until now.

Picking his way through piles of important looking documents, printed on dragon themed paper, Bakura finally reached his goal, Kaiba's personal computer. After turning it on, it was a relatively simple task for Bakura to log on, the password having been, rather predictably, blue eyes ultimate dragon. It took a mere couple of minutes for the master thief to locate what he was searching for and to email copies to himself. He then changed the computer's background to display a message that Kaiba would be bound to pay attention to and switched off the machine. Finally, more as an act of impulse than anything else, he stuffed the remainder of Marik's hand made leaflets into the dragon themed pillows on Kaiba's bed, along with the long cables off his suit which had finally dissattached themselves, before taking a permanent marker off the desk and scrawling in large, obnoxious letters the name of Marik's fan fiction, the Pharaoh's name and Bakura's thoughts on Kaiba's taste in interior decoration.

With his mission now complete, he pocketed the marker pen and cautiously made his way back off his enemy's estate.

* * *

"FLUFFY!"

"Don't call me that," Bakura murmered wearily from where he was sprawled out on his sofa reading the Count of Monte Cristo.

Ignoring Bakura's remark, Marik continued to bounce excitedly on his chair pointing at three review notifications in his email inbox. "At last!" he cried. "People are finally coming to appreciate my brilliance."

"Err, you haven't actually read those reviews yet have you?" Bakura inquired cautiously.

"Of course not! I've just got them, I just have to wait for the page to load first."

"Oh...good." Bakura murmured as he crept off upstairs. He just managed to make it to the bedroom before...

"BAKURA!"

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading and may all your evenings be full of sparkly weasels, after all, they taste just like fizzy cola bottles.


End file.
